Gathering in reverence, the friends lift their voices in song, celebrating the purified one—Soma—for exhilaration. They gladden the divine child with praises, offering their heartfelt hymns at the sacred sacrifices. Like a calf seeking its mothers, the Soma drop, freshly pressed, is led forth, carrying the god-inspired exhilaration, adorned with thoughtful contemplation. This Soma is the bringer of skill, cherished by the troop, a source of enjoyment. When pressed, he becomes the sweetest delight for the gods. O Soma drop, pressed amid cows and horses, you are skillful and wealth-giving; your pure color has been placed among the cows, a sign of your abundance. You, Soma, are the lord of the tawny ones, the most divine among the Apsaras. Radiate with friendship, just as a friend shines for a friend. For us, you are the solid wheel, protecting us from those who are godless and rootless. O drop, repel away all double harm. Swift as steeds, the pressed Soma drops rush forth to Indra, newly-born, eager, and knowing the light. Soma, pressed for offering, flows for Indra, seeking victory with wisdom. In his exhilaration, may Indra seize the grasped, pressed Soma, taking up the mighty, conquering thunderbolt. Awakened Soma, flow forth for Indra; bring radiant strength and the power to find light. Flow forth, O mighty exhilaration, for Indra, all-seeing and thousand-fold in strength, path-maker and wise. Come to us, most knowing of the paths, sweetest for the gods; roar along a thousand ways. Flow, O drop, with streams and strength for the favor of the gods, into the vessel—O sweet Soma, our seat. Your shining drops, O Soma, have strengthened Indra for exhilaration. You, gods, have drunk Soma for immortality. Let the pressed, purified drops run to us with wealth; let rain-filled heavens and flowing waters, bearers of light, come. Purifying Soma rushes in waves, spreading wide, at the forefront of speech, roaring and flowing. With thoughts, the prize-bringer is urged on, playing in the wood, never failing. Hymns resound around the triple seat. Soma pours into the vessels like a charioteer eager for the prize, purifying, generating speech, and shining forth. The golden Soma flows, delighting in the bay steeds, surpassing lovely places, and approaches the singers with heroic fame. Flow with this, O godly one; streams of honey have flowed, roaring as you circle the filter from every side. Pour all around the pressed Soma, the highest offering, noble and flowing within the waters with the stones. Now, purified, flow all around with shining waves, most fragrant; in the pressing, may we rejoice in you, O Soma, pouring forth and straining with cows, the uppermost. Poured out for vision, Soma delights the gods, wise and discerning. Purifying, Soma flows in a stream, clothed in waters, sitting at the source of immortality—the golden spring, O god. Milked from the heavenly udder, the ancient honey settles in the sacred place. The wise, swift-flowing Soma, pressed by men, seeks inviting support. Purifying Soma, ever-awake, free from harm, beloved, has become a sage, most Angiras-like; with sweetness, may you strengthen our sacrifice. Soma, gracious and purified, bestower of the path, a seer and sage, discerning, has become a poet, best guide of the gods—raise us to the sun in heaven. Soma, pressed by the priests with stones, flows forth like a horse with golden trappings, moving with a delightful stream. In the lowlands, Soma, rich in cows, is guarded by milk-givers; like rivers reaching the ocean, the exhilarating ones hasten together for joy. Soma, pressed with stones, has passed beyond unyielding barriers; like a people in a city, the bright one finds a broad seat, dwelling in the woods. Cleansed, passing through narrow places like a sheep in the pen, Soma is swift for the prize, worthy of praise by the wise and inspired singers. For the guidance of the gods, Soma swells like a river in flood, lively with the milk of the stalk, like an awakened one approaching the vessel streaming with honey. He reaches the shining, white filter, beloved as a son to be cleansed; the waters drive him as they would a chariot, with their arms, as among the rivers. The flowing Somas, eager for intoxication, are purified; on the summit of the ocean, the wise, longing for the sun, are bearers of light. Purifying, O king, you cross the ocean with your wave, O god, great in truth; impelled by the law of Mitra and Varuna, you send forth the great truth. Guided by men, the golden, discerning king, the god belonging to the ocean, advances. The exhilaration of Soma, pressed for Indra and the Maruts, flows; with a thousand streams, the unconquered one rushes forth, cleansed by the flowing ones. Purifying, generating the troop, sage Soma delights among the gods; clothed in waters, surrounded by cows, he sits above, established in the woods. To you, Soma, I declare my friendship, O tawny Indu, day by day; many are the bright paths that come to me—remove the encircling bonds and come here. Both by night and by day, O tawny Soma, I seek your friendship at the udder. With fervor, I soar beyond the burning sun, like a bird, ever yearning for your divine embrace.